Disclaimer: Inspired by Brotherband Chronicles, by Mosgem. Their plot, not mine.
Diary of Amelie Lacroix
It was a calm day at sea— gentle swells lapping at the side of the boat, but not much more. The sun was shining brightly on the deck and I could hear the men bustling around upstairs. The crew of the S.S Cauchemar never slept, it seemed.
I was currently standing on the port side of the massive ship, enjoying the sea breeze that made my long, blue hair fly in the win. It was common courtesy for a lady to wear her hair up when she was outside, but none of the crewmembers cared if I broke the rules, probably because I was their best navigator.
Lieutenant Amelie Lacroix, that is. At age five, I was found on the beach of Annecy, deserted by my parents and left to die. I would have, had I not been spotted by no other than the legendary Louis Lacroix, not of bloodline, incase you were wondering. He spotted me from out at sea and sent men in rowboats to collect me.
From there, I had been sent to Sea Academy- common for boys my age, but I was the first girl to be admitted. At age twelve, I graduated top of my class and was assigned to the ship S.S Cauchemar, where I was currently working. Our job, as under the command of King Francis IV, was to act as the law keepers of the sea— we sailed from France to Spain and back again, sometimes hugging the coast, sometimes going as far out as maps allowed. We sank ships, we picked up strays, and we conquered islands.
Veni, Vedi, Vici. That was our motto. We came, we saw, we conquered, all under the kings name. Our Captain, Jonas, was a brutal man, but a brilliant one non the less. Any foreign land we came across, we were permitted to engage in warfare and conquer for France.
It was around noon when the shout went up, from the lookout point:
"Ship-ho!"
I pulled my telescope from my pocket, flipped it open with a clean snap of my wrist and peered through it. Sure enough, there was another ship— at least twice the size of ours, wide and slow, flying the Spanish flag. It sat in the water, unmoving. It looked like…
"Galleon!" I yelled, closing my telescope and sprinting to the crows' nest. Several people had already made the same assumption as me and were running around excitedly; a Spanish Galleon floating helpless in the waters was not something you saw every day. Already, Jonas was appearing from his cabin, sword clutched in his hand.
"I hear Galleon!" he said excitedly. He had sharp features and blonde hair, around twenty-five. Usually to young to be commanding a ship of this importance, but with his over-average intelligence and letters of recommendation, there was no way to turn him down.
"Thirteen degrees port, sir!" one of the men yelled. Jonas pulled out his own telescope and opened it, peering out at the ship that was now just a smudge on the horizon.
"Well I'll be dammed," he said quietly. "A Spanish Galleon, floating helpless in the waters. What'd you think might happen to it, lads?" he turned towards the crew.
"It might catch fire," One suggested mischievously.
"It could easily be mistaken for a pirate ship," another one grinned. I understood where they were going: Galleons were the floating banks of the Spanish Navy, stacked high with gold and precious jewels. No man, honest or not, could turn down an opportunity like this.
"Aye, I could see that happening," Jonas agreed. He turned his eyes to me. "What say you?"
"Well," I answered, studying it carefully. "It obviously got separated from the fleet that was sailing to England a couple of months ago. I say, under present circumstances and the obvious bad weather, it would be easy to mistake the Galleon as an enemy ship. I think we would sink it, the treasure sadly lost in the depths."
"Aye," Jonas agreed quietly. "I could see that happening." Then he turned to the rest of the men. "Full speed ahead! Raise the sails! Turn towards the Galleon! We'll be feasting like kings tonight, boys!"
Slowly, we made out way across smooth sea, gliding at a speed of twelve knots— the fastest ever achieved by a ship of our size. The Galleon grew larger and larger— small in comparison to some, but no doubt packed with enough gold and gems to keep us all happy for the rest of our lives.
And yet, something wasn't right. The Galleon was sitting far too high in the water. Should it have been packed with treasure, it would have been low in the waves, the weight of all the gold bringing it down. But it sat nearly three-quarters out of the sea.
I tried to explain the to Jonas, but he just shrugged it off, his eyes alight with gold fever, and told me to get ready to board. Shrugging off my suspicion, I went to grab a hat and a cloth bag to fill with treasure— my own keep.
We were within firing range now, but no move was made for the cannons. We would only sink the ship once we had looted it of everything valuable, from gold and treasures down to candles and coils of rope. We weren't common pirates. We were crusaders of the King, and this was our duty. It was required that two-thirds of out loot immediately be transferred to the royalty of France- a calculation that I would no doubt have to make, once we were done. Still, if this Galleon held half as much treasure as normal, none of us would ever have to worry about money again.
We were even closer now— about five hundred meters, no more. Almost all our men were ready to board, armed with grappling hooks and planks of wood.
And that's when things started to go wrong.
Suddenly, bubbles began to erupt around the ship, bursting to the surface and popping. Our ship swayed— not an alarming amount, but enough to make the men pause. The 'Galleon' was sinking rapidly, turning as it lowered into the water with calculated precision. My mind was whirling with a hundred different possibilities; maybe there was a hull in the ship, or some sort of fail-safe to sink if enemy boats approached? But even I couldn't predict what happened next.
With a whoop, lines shot out from the other ship and latched onto our bow. The pulled taunt in an instant and we lurched dangerously, sending men stumbling. The Spanish flag erupted in flames, burning away in a second, and in it's place another flag now flapped in the wind: black, with a white peace-sign like symbol with orange bottom.
"Pirates!" I yelled frantically, recognizing the symbol in an instant. Overwatch, the old pirate organization, they rarely ventured up into our waters, although when they did they left destruction in their wake. Not many of them left.
"PIRATES!" Jonas bellowed. "MAN THE CANNONS! LOWER THE SAILS!" Men were now scrambling around, all thoughts of riches gone from their mind. Now it was all about survival. I pulled my pistol out, checked it was loaded and prepared for a fight. I may have been a lady, but that didn't mean I couldn't protect myself— least against a good-for-nothing untrained pirate. They were savages, the lot of them. I've named her Widow's Kiss.
The air was suddenly filled with soft, almost inaudible twangs. I looked around, bemused, but saw nothing. What was that sound?
Then I saw the arrow hit the deck, and understood in a second. Bows and arrows! Who used those anymore? The least they could do is get some real weapons, besides swords and arrows.
Despite the primitive weapons, their aim was impressive. Men were dropping left and right, impaled through the eyes or the throat. I heard a soft whoosh of air, and before I could react one was sticking out of my arm. The pain was incredible— not unlike a bullet, I would be willing to bet.
And then I saw them— the Pirates, making their way across the ropes, armed with swords and clubs. No match for our guns, surely— but I wasn't so confident. I raised my pistol and fired a shot, watching with satisfaction as one of the men splashed into the water, dead. That would teach them to mess with Amelie Lacroix.
And then they were aboard out ship, swinging their swords and yelling savagely. I saw one— a brown haired girl , shorter than the others but with a sense of power and authority around her. She was dressed in silver and orange armor, with a bronze short sword and a shield to match. And she was wreaking utter havoc— spinning across the deck, knocking men overboard and slashing with her sword. Our men fought back, but there were too many of them, and we were already weakened from the arrows. I hunkered beneath a crate of food, pistol clutched tightly in one hand. I could have rushed into the fight, but I didn't. I had to wait, see how this would play out, and then strike when they were least expecting it.
The battle was over in mere minutes— mainly due to the brown haired girl and two others— one medium with brown hair as well, the other with blonde hair and blue eyes, much like Jonas.
When the last of our men had either surrendered or were dead, the Captain stepped forwards— about nineteen, with sandy blonde hair, sharp blue eyes and holding a large, thick sword. He smiled as he looked at the swift precision his men had taken down mine.
"Is the ship secure?" he asked. The brown-haired girl stepped forwards. She was unscathed save a cut on her arm, but it didn't seem to be bothering her. The arrow in my arm, on contrast, hurt a great deal.
"It's ours, Jack! " she said. "Told ya my plan'll work."
The Captain—Jack— smiled. "Don't let it get to you, Lena," he said. His eyes twinkled with humor, and I had to wonder if he really was a pirate. They were supposed to be a savage lot, but these people seemed almost organized. Humane. Civilized.
Jack strode closer to me, and I saw my chance. I may die, but I would at least kill their captain, and I didn't have much to live for. My friends were dead and my ship was taken over. I might as well go out in a blaze of glory.
Taking a deep breath, I made sure my gun was loaded, before popping up, cocking back the hammer and shooting Jack in between the eyes. He was fast, but not fast enough. My bullet was already in the air when he turned to look at me. The last thing he saw was my defiant face, before he was shoved backwards into the railing of the ship.
"Jack!" a dark-skinned woman yelled, streaking forwards towards me with her sword raised. I rolled to the side and leveled my gun, but she kicked it away and swung her sword again with a savage yell.
Just as it was about to reach my neck, ending my life, a sword appeared and blocked the blade, mere inches from my neck. I gasped involuntarily and looked up to see my savior. It was Lena, the brunette, chocolate-eyed boy who was currently glowering at Fareeha.
"Simmer down, Fareeha," she ordered, her voice low and dangerous. Fareeha glared defiantly back at her.
"She killed Jack!" she exclaimed. "You're protecting her?"
"She may be a Frenchie, but she's stilla human," Lena reasoned, giving the slightest nudge with her blade, but Fareeha didn't withdraw, just continued to glare at her opponent.
"You're protecting the French?" she demanded. "They think us to be savages!"
"Then we must give them no greater reason to assume that!" Lena snapped. In a lightning fast maneuver, she disarmed Fareeha and sheathed her own sword. "I'm first mate, and Jack issa dead. Do you know what that makes me, mate?"
"Captain," Fareeha muttered bitterly. Lena nodded.
"And by your sworn oath to the gods, you're under my rule," she said. "Now stand down." I had to stifle a laugh. Gods? As in plural? What kind of idiots were they? There was only one god, our divine creator, and anyone who said otherwise deserved to be burned at the stake.
"S'ides," Lena continued quietly. "Look at her eyes, Fareeha." Fareeha cast a look at my golden eyes, and her own grew larger with realization. Slowly, reluctantly, she stepped back and nodded.
"Yeah!" Lena bellowed. "Angela, Sombra, searched the crows nest for maps, would ya? The rest of you, loot the place. Anything of any sort of value I want brought back onto the Argo. Fareeha go back to the ship and arm the ballista's.
Fareeha seemed to enjoy this. "Nano or normal fire?" she asked. Lena considered for a moment.
"She's a big ship," she eventually answered. "Nano fire, but make sure to shoot quickly. We wouldn't want to burn down the ship, now would we?"
"No, sir," Fareeha smiled and headed back on the ropes, leaving me alone with Lena. Resentment and disgust bubbled in my stomach. Alone with a pirate. I would rather die than be held captive by the savages.
And yet, when I looked into Lena's eyes, my heart leaped, just a little. I tried to ignore it, but it was definitely there. She stared at me cautiously, almost like she didn't know what to think of me. At a great length, she said:
"You fight well." She didn't add for a girl, which I wasn't used to. Almost everyone said that, like they thought girls couldn't fight. Lena obviously new better.
"I've had training," I told her obnoxiously. "Kings Court training, he best training in all of the world."
"Clearly," she smirked, throwing her shield back over her shoulder. It was ingrained with different letters, and had a crescent shape cut out from the top of it— probably to fit a spear or sword in place. "That's why my men— Jack's men— were able to sweep yours aside like pile of dry leaves."
I glowered at the insult. Savages. Had they met us on a fair battleground, without their shield or armor, we would have torn them apart. Lena caught the look in my eye and chuckled.
"No need for that," she said. "Just pointing out the obvious, yeah?" And then I had too much. How could this cocky, arrogant sea brat be laughing when she had just killed men? How could she be so happy when she had just seen her captain die?
I drew my dagger— a last resort weapon, as I had never liked it. It was off balance and didn't fit well in my hand, but I had no choice now. I dove at Lena, aimed for her midriff.
She barely had time to deflect the blow off her arm guards, surprised by my attack. I wielded around and slashed again, watching with satisfaction as my blade grazed her cheek and left a cut.
And then is sword was in her hand, and her boot was coming in contact with my chest. I went sailing backwards, almost toppling over the railing but managing to steady myself. My dagger was gone, and now Lena's sword was against my throat.
"This is Emily," she growled. "Wielded by who bloody knows, defeater of men and women. It's killed more enemies then I've counted days in my life, and if you so much as point a pencil at any of my men again I will not hesitate to run you through with it and then offer your blood as a blessing to the gods. Savvy?"
Her face was terrifying; her brown eyes alight with fire. I had no intention of admitting defeat, although I wasn't very much looking forwards to being run through with a sword.
"Lena!" A girl yelled. "What're you playing at, noob?" A girl appeared, with medium brown hair and warm brown eyes. She had a bow slung over her shoulder and a knife on her belt.
"Nothing, Hana," Lena said, sheathing her sword. "Just teaching her a lesson."
"Do you even know her name?" Hana asked, amused. She came to join us and looked me up and down. I glared back at her, and she nodded with approval.
"Bollocks, that might be a problem, yeah?" Lena agreed. They all had some sort of foreign accent to them that I couldn't place. It just made them sound dumber and dumber.
"Amelie," I supplied. "Amelie Lacroix."
"Are you related to Louis Lacroix?" Hana asked, slightly interested. I shook my head and explained how I was an orphan. I shouldn't be telling them this, really, but they weren't that bad. Savage, but not all as horrible as they were made out to be.
"Hmm," Hana said. "I knew him, once."
"You did?" I asked, surprised. Hana nodded.
"He was a tough man," she smiled. "Took three arrows and a knife to kill him." Lena smiled wistfully, as if remembering that day.
"Get back to the ship," she told Hana. Then she turned to me, the anger in her eyes gone. "Walk with me, luv"
Let me know if I should continue.